Chapter 16

Oblivious to the worries of the Headmaster, Voldemort was casually lounging in a very luxurious clawfoot bathtub in one of the opulent guestrooms of Malfoy Manor. He had to hand it to Lucius, the man could kiss ass like no other but he had excellent taste.

His resurrection should have been a glorious revelry with his most loyal followers yet the events of that night had left a sour taste in his mouth. Not only did a lot of his followers not show up when called but his Potion Master even had the absolute gall to betray him and injure him as well. The Dark Lord looked at the now healed stump where his wand hand used to be and unbridled anger filled his being. How dare Severus, after being welcomed into his inner circle as one of his most trusted. The spell was not something he knew and there were no books on the counter curse so that he could have his limb regrown. So it must have been the man's own invention the Dark Lord mused. On one hand, he was impressed on the other he wanted nothing more than to Crucio the traitor.

As Voldemort climbed out of the bathtub and put on a black robe hanging nearby something hot suddenly hit him. He clutched his heart as he felt his magic ablaze. His entire benign shuddered as the pain became so unbearable that he sank to his knees on the black and white tiled floor. He must have shouted, though he doesn't remember that, as Wormtail rushed in while screaming in worry.

The Dark Lord did not understand what was happening, his core burned while agony spread through his veins. He reached inward to feel his magic, to feel his core. The strands of magic imitating from his core directly connected to his marked followers and one strand was pulsating wildly. "Snape..." Voldemort uttered while in pain as shock filled him when the magical tread binding his follower to him snapped. The magical backlash was great as he had used the tread to siphon some amount of magic from his followers. They pledged themselves to him, it is what he was owed.

He could hear more footsteps rushing in the distance but his vision went black before anyone else entered the bathroom.

"What the bloody hell?!" Lucius said upon seeing the scene of Wormtail standing over their unconscious Lord.

"Oh good heavens," Narcissa uttered shocked as she appeared behind her husband to take in the scene.

The couple had been sipping tea in the salon when a house elf popped in fretting to the high heavens.

"It wasn't me!" Pettigrew quickly said before the Malfoys got the wrong idea in their head. "Our Lord shouted and I came in to find him on the floor clutching his heart! He was shouting Snape's name before passing out,"

"Why would he shout a traitor's name instead of calling for one of us for help?!" Lucius rounded on the jittery man.

"Both of you can bicker about this later. We need to get him off the cold tiles first," Lady Malfoy announced. "For all we know he's having a heart attack and will need medical attention."

"Cissy firecall Travers. His wife used to be a mediwitch," Lucius ordered while shooting a glare at Wormtail. "You will help me get our Lord to his bed and you will not leave my sight!"

Peter squawked at still being suspected but nodded as Lucius performed the levitating charm.

Hours later the Malfoy couple was back in their bedroom, mulling over the events of that afternoon. Narcissa was pouring a glass of whiskey and shocked Lucius by downing it in one go. "I thought that was for me," Her husband uttered. She simply poured another glass and handed it to him.

"Thank Merlin we sent Draco to our French villa for the summer," Lady Malfoy stated. "The Dark Lord will not be happy when he wakes up,"

"Magical backlash," Lucius mulled over what Mrs. Travers had stated from her diagnosis. "And calling Snape's name.... Hmm,"

"What are you thinking?" Narcissa asked. She too was frowning as the whole situation was odd.

"Perhaps our Lord confided a medical condition he had to Snape, considering that he might need potions," Lucius suspected.

"The Dark Lord had just received a new body," His wife countered. "There should be no medical conditions."

"Unless Pettigrew screwed up the ritual,"

"Doubtful, Peter is still alive..." she shot back.

Lucius felt a headache forming while he tried to contemplate the events. It was all just so weird. Their Lord had been in full control of his magic for days now. His Crucios were as painful as ever during the meetings and suddenly he collapsed from a magical backlash for which the cause couldn't be explained by the mediwitch.

"There is one scenario we should also consider," Cissy suddenly said as she had been contemplating while staring out their window overlooking the landscaped garden. "What if the cause of the Dark Lord's condition was somehow Severus's doing?"

"What could that traitor possibly do?" Lucius shot back not even willing to entertain the notion but Narcissa was adamant. She shot back with "We both know what Severus is capable of and what we inferred privately he could be capable of... it is why he is Draco's godfather,"

Lucius was silent after that because he knew it was true to a degree. Snape was not someone you'd want to piss off.

Meanwhile, back in the cave Harry was still fretting as night had already fallen and he still had a lap full of unconscious Potion Master clinging to him. He hadn't moved much as Snape's nails dug in his arms painfully though he had been able to relight the torches with some well-aimed incendios.

What was most concerning was, and Harry kicked himself in the head for this, that he had not considered just how sadistic Ole Moldyshorts was to his followers. He knew of the crucios during the meetings of course but the hidden feature of the Dark mark had astounded him, and that was where his spell might have gone a bit... haywire.

The mist had been designed to burn away intrusive magic in someone's body, what Harry hadn't accounted for was that the mark was being used to siphon magic from Snape. His spell had furiously latched onto the siphoning tread, intent on burning it away, which also resulted in the heat becoming more intense than Harry had predicted. He had managed to cast aguamenti on Snape's arm as blisters started to form which indicated at the very least a second-degree burn.

Harry frowned and wondered about an aspect he hadn't thought of before. If Voldy was marking recently graduated students, and those in 6th and 7th year then their magical cores hadn't expanded to their maximum yet. That only happened once they turned 21. Was Voldemort deliberately stunting the growth of future wizards and witches so that he would have less competition?

A groan from Snape brought Harry out of his musings. He felt the man stir and then mutter "Why do I feel like I'm on fire?"

"B-Because you... kind of were, sir," Harry stammered. "I'm sorry... I didn't account for the spell to physically hurt you. The mark had a hidden feature and.... Uhm...."

"Potter cease your prattling," Snape grumbled. "There is murtlap essence in one of the packages from the general store."

"Right... uhm..." a blush started forming on Harry's cheeks. "Severus, you will have to let me go if I have to get it,"

Snape uttered nothing though he did release Harry and scooted off his lap. A hiss of pain escaped him as he looked at the burned and blistered area where the Dark Mark used to be. Harry was quickly rummaging through their supplies, ripping open several since he couldn't remember which came from which store. "Aha!" Harry uttered when he finally found the murtlap. He scooted back to Snape and proceeded to cover the wounds on his arm with several drops. Soon the skin was mending, though still red from the heat. Snape gasped at his unblemished arm, and before Harry could even put the small pipette back in the bottle, he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and snogged to the high heavens.